"I recently told a friend one of these stories: I live in a 'nice' building. I work hard. You know I work hard. My logic is (naïve alert in 5, 4, 3, 2 … ) 'Well, there can't be any fear of any type in this building' — you've got to go through hell and high water just to get accepted to live here, like it's Dartmouth or UPenn. Secondly, there are, like, five to eight guards on duty 24/7, so this spot is beyond safe. Like, Oscar winners and kids of royalty and sports guys and mafia goombahs live here. One night, I get in the elevator, and just as the door closes this beautiful woman gets on." (read more)